Partners
by Kasra
Summary: In order to save Tokyo, Omi must put the past behind him and partner up with his worst enemy to stop the fallout from the doomed Estet summoning. (yaoi, Schu/Omi)
1. Prologue

Usual Disclaimer: I'm an engineer, not an anime producer. Hence, I don't own 'em. I'm just playing nicely with them for a little bit.

Author's note: Well, here goes. My first Weiss Kreuz fanfic. I know it's a strange pairing, but this idea has been poking at me for the past couple of months, so I figured I'd get it out of my system. C&C appreciated.

Pairings: Schuldig/Omi; background Ken+Omi 

Spoilers: Entire Weiss Kreuz television series to date   
  
  


**Partners**

  
  


The building was going to collapse.

It did not require a civil engineer to tell Omi what the destruction around him had already made obvious - the building's structural integrity was shot to hell, and there was no way he could possibly get out of the building alive.

So, resigned to his fate, he concentrated on his new objective: taking as many of those Schwartz bastards to hell with him as possible.

To his left, Ken panted as he picked himself off of the floor. Farfarello lay ten feet away from him, stunned momentarily, where Ken had knocked him away from Omi only moments before.

Omi flashed a tired smile at his teammate, thankful for the assistance. It was time for him to return the favor.

Dusting his sleeves off, Omi squared his shoulders and turned to face Nagi once again. He was ready to do whatever he could to keep Schwartz from winning this battle.

In the corner, Yohji held Schuldig at bay with his garrote. Directly in front of him, Crawford danced around Aya's wild slashes, occasionally throwing a counterpunch before sliding out of range.

Nagi's eyes flashed at Omi from across the room, a challenge. He tensed, reaching instinctually for his darts as the telekinetic raised his hands to attack.

But before either could finish their move, a hideous cracking noise drew complete attention to the center of the room. All action paused as the assassin groups looked frantically around the room to determine the source of the sound.

Directly down the center of the room, a fissure split the flooring apart between Crawford and Aya.

And it was growing wider.

The room quaked as the floor beneath them tore apart, flinging both Weiss and Schwartz violently to the ground. Omi fought to regain his footing as the world around him shook. He had made it to his knees and was straightening his back when a large piece of broken ceiling tile plummeted from above, striking him squarely on the back of his head.

_I guess I was right after all,_ Omi thought dazedly, blackness encroaching his vision. _The building really_ is _going to collapse._

Ahead of him, he watched as Crawford was the first to be swallowed into the gaping abyss.

Omi smiled sardonically.

_Well,_ he thought, _at least I won't die alone._

Then the world dropped out beneath his feet, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 1

  


**Chapter 1**

  
  


_**Wake up, kitten.**_

_Why is the world blurry?_

_**Wake up.**_

_Why is everything moving in slow motion?_

_**Come on, dammit, wake up.**_

_Why am I floating?_

_**Get up!**_

_And why can't I breathe?_

Full panic set in as Omi flailed in place, arms thrashing outward to grab at anything, anyone that would save him from the murky depths into which he was sinking. His lungs were on fire, desperate as he fought the instinctual reflex to breathe in the saline medium surrounding him. His oxygen was running out quickly, and he could not tell how far down he was... or how he was going to make it back up.

Omi scanned the area surrounding him, anxiously searching for anything that would help regain his buoyancy, or help get him the hell out of the water. _A ladder would be really nice right about now._ He squinted, but his surroundings refused to become any clearer. What few shapes he could discern through the dim light were far enough away that he would run out of air before he made it to them.

He was going to die... If he did not get a breath of air in the next thirty seconds, he was going to die.

Something brushed at his left shoulder. Omi started and turned, eyes wide. A life preserver? Or maybe a flotation pillow...

He groped blindly at the object and pulled it in closer for a look. It was far too large to be a life preserver or a flotation pillow, he realized immediately. It presented no resistance, but did not seem to increase his buoyancy at the same time. He was prepared to let go of it and make a final hopeless bid for the surface when something impelled him to look again. He peered closer at it, curiosity momentarily winning over common sense.

Dead brown eyes stared back at him from the still body he held in an almost-intimate embrace.

_KEN?!!_

The world began to disappear around him.

_Ken? Ken! Oh my god...Ken!!_

Omi panicked, clasping the body tight against him and kicking as hard as he could upward. Some part of his mind wondered why he had not tried doing this in the first place, but that thought was quickly silenced by the rising panic in the back of his mind. His vision was blurring around the edges again... scratch that, it was already blurry, it was starting to get black - as he kicked for all he was worth, pressing Ken's body close to his own, refusing to abandon him despite knowing that Ken would only serve to weigh him down further.

_I'll get us out of here, Ken. I promise._

His insides felt like they were going to burst. His lungs screamed at him for oxygen, and suddenly he could not hold it in any longer.

Bubbles poured out of his mouth as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs.

_Too far... I'm not close enough..._

His vision went dark.

_Not going to make it. Oh my god, I'm going to die down here!_

He tasted saline in his mouth.

_HELP!_

_Somebody please help me!_

_**Goddamn you, kid, WAKE THE HELL UP!**_

He flew awake with a start, pulse raising and panting hard, the world's worst headache cleaving his skull in two.

_I'm alive,_ he thought numbly.

_But where am I?_

Careful to keep himself absolutely still, he took quick stock of his situation and condition. He was lying flat on his back on a comfortable surface in a dark room of indeterminate size. His entire body ached, sore and bruised, but nothing definitely broken, as far as he could tell.

His head, though - experimentally, he elevated his head an inch to get a look at his surroundings...

A sharp lance of pain immobilized him, forcing his head to drop back down parallel to his body. Blinding flashes of color danced in his vision as nausea swirled in his gut. He fought the urge to retch, knowing he was incapable of moving his head far enough to the side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit.

Deep, cleansing breaths helped clear the nausea away and quell his rising panic. The swirling colors receded after a couple of minutes, leaving him alone in the dark to ponder his situation once again.

_I'm alive. I can't see anything. I am mostly naked,_ he decided he did not want to think about that fact very much, _which means I have no weapons. I am lying on something, probably a mattress. I don't have any broken bones, but there's a very good chance I have a concussion._

He concentrated on his straying thoughts. There was something missing, something he was forgetting...

_Wait a minute...how the hell did I get here?_

As if triggered by a switch, memories of the previous battle flooded into his mind.

_"This will be our final mission."_

_...take as many of those Schwartz bastards to hell with him as possible._

_"At least I won't die alone."_

_Why can't I breathe?_

_Dead brown eyes._

_Oh my god! Ken!_

_Ken!_

"KEN!"

_**CALM DOWN.**_

Omi grabbed at his head. Why was he hearing the voice from his dreams? Where was it coming from?

_**Calm down.**_

Was all of this a dream, too? When was he going to wake up?

Would Ken be waiting there for him when he did?

_**I assure you, kid, this is no dream.**_

The voice had an almost nasal pitch to it, Omi thought distractedly. How can a mental voice sound nasal? He wanted to dismiss it out-of-hand for its own absurdity, except he could not help thinking that it somehow sounded familiar...

_**Though I might be willing to concede that it's about to turn into a nightmare.**_

He heard the creak of a door just before a sliver of light cut through the darkness above him. His hands moved automatically to his midsection before he remembered that he was clothed only in boxers under the blanket covering the rest of him. He tensed, ready to spring even knowing that the resultant headache would probably render him unconscious before he got the chance to strike.

But the shock at the sight of the person who stepped into view in front of him was enough to stop him mid-movement.

_It... it can't be!_

"What's the matter, kitten?" Schuldig smirked.

"I thought you'd be happy to see the face of your savior."

  
  


**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 2

  


Well, it's been a while... for some reason this fic wanted to be written today, instead of Talking To The Dead. Anyone still with me? ^_^;;

  
  


**Chapter 2**

  
  


Omi stared dumbly at the German before him, shock momentarily rendering him mute, frozen in place. His entire world had been turned upside-down in the last than twenty-four hours; he was beginning to wonder if the knock he had taken to his head had addled his wits at the same time.

Schuldig - his _savior_? Was this Fate's idea of a sick joke?

He pushed down the hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat at the absurdity of the thought; it would only serve to further antagonize the telepath, and in his current state Omi knew he would be almost completely unable to defend himself. _Remember, this is the man responsible for Ouka's death._ He clenched his fists, his nails digging crescents into his palms. _He is dangerous - especially when provoked._

Narrowing his eyes, Omi regarded the man casually leaning against the doorframe. If Schuldig was still listening in on his thoughts, he was not giving any outward indication of it. "What do you mean, savior?" he asked in as civil a tone as he could manage.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," Schuldig mused aloud, moving across the room in quick strides to Omi's bedside. Omi continued to stare straight ahead, making no acknowledgement of Schuldig's close proximity.

Recognizing that the boy would not be bated further, Schuldig stopped at a point just outside of the range of Omi's reach. Omi turned his head slowly, with exaggerated care, not willing to allow his enemy to leave his sight, no matter what the price he would pay in pain.

Schuldig watched him from a short distance away, obviously amused. Omi bit his lip but refused to let the man get to him; if he was still alive, it meant there had to be a reason Schuldig was keeping him around - charitable assassins did not exist, certainly not in the form of former rivals and enemies. Schuldig must want something from him.

_No,_ he corrected himself. _Not want. Schuldig_ needs _something from me. There's no other logical explanation for -_

"...why you're still alive?" The German leaned forward so that his lips were barely an inch above Omi's ear. His voice purred with promised antagonism, undercutting a thin veneer of necessary civility. "I see you do catch on quick, after all. It would have taken your Siberian at least twice as long to figure it out."

_Ken..._ Omi clenched his fists, consciously willing away memories of the nightmare still fresh in his mind.

Schuldig pulled back, perhaps sensing the danger of staying within the proximity of Omi's reach even despite his condition. Omi grunted, but unclenched his fists once the man retreated from his personal space. Of course, from that distance all Schuldig would need was a gun to kill him, but Omi was too exhausted and worn to let that detract from the false sense of security wrought by the small stretch of territory between them.

Enough dancing around, he decided. It was time to lay it all out on the table. Summoning up a tone of bored civility from a well of calmness deep within himself, he looked the telepath directly in the eye and addressed him. "What do you want?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Schuldig's mouth. "Oh? Do I always have to want something?" The smirk broadened into a leer. "What if I told you I saved you out of the goodness of my heart?"

"Then I'd know you were lying." _Of all of the times to be incapacitated,_ he thought ruefully. "Now let's cut the crap and get straight to the point. What the hell happened?"

_**Where do you want me to start?**_ Schuldig uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, meeting Omi's gaze with equal ferocity. _**When your team fucked up the ritual? When the demon possessed Sakura Tomoe?**_

Omi grabbed at his head, ugly purples and vivid blues flaring in his vision from the sudden mental intrusion into his concussion-damaged head.

_**How about when the building collapsed?**_ The hellish scene replayed repeatedly in Omi's mind. Desperately he clutched at the air, trying to suck more oxygen into lungs still damaged from his near drowning. _**That's the last real memory you have before waking up here, right?**_

_No!_ He jerked his body upright in the bed, pain flooding in to his head in a rainbow of dazzling, bright colors. He threw his hands over his ears to block out the shrill awful noise surrounding him - only to realize that it was the sound of his own screaming.

Firm hands grasped his shoulders, digging tight into the muscles, yet considerate enough to refrain from shaking him and exacerbating the fierce pain in his head. He felt something cold prick his right arm, moments before the pain started to ebb away.

Omi blinked his eyes, noticing first the restored silence of the room. His eyes swiveled to the hand still gripping his right shoulder, and followed it up to frowning face of the German telepath.

"Hey, kid. Don't do something stupid like that again."

Was he hallucinating again?

Omi fought back against the gauzy layer of numbness threatening to envelop his consciousness. His voice lagged a half-second behind his thoughts. "What the hell is that?" He struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt his body slowly lowered back down parallel to the mattress.

"Magic potion." Omi saw a something long and silver flash in the light a moment before Schuldig flipped his wrist away. "Try to stay awake. I know I probably gave you too much, but you've got a concussion, so you need to stay awake."

Omi blinked twice. Now he was certain he was hallucinating.

Schuldig's face moved in close to his, blocking out the light. If Omi did not know better, he would have thought the man looked almost contrite. _**Look, I may not like you either, but I don't exactly have a choice about working with you. Get used to it.**_

With some effort he managed to speak past the lump caught in his throat. "What about Schwarz?"

The face in front of him darkened a moment before Schuldig pulled away, out of Omi's immediate sight. "Gone." There was a rough edge to the word that echoed in the hollow room.

_Gone._ Nothing more needed said; Omi implicitly understood what had been left unspoken. 

_Dead brown eyes..._ Yes, he understood the meaning of the word 'gone.' Omi was not the only one who had lost comrades.

But what the hell would drive Schuldig to ally himself with him? As far as he knew, the death of the elders of Estet left the organization in shambles. If both Schwarz and Schreient were gone, what did that leave?

_**Sakura Tomoe,**_ the tired nasal voice interrupted in his head.

"Sakura?" He tried to raise his head, but it resisted, like a lead weight. Whatever drug Schuldig had injected into him earlier was far too effective, Omi decided.

_**And you're wrong about Estet.**_ The voice was lazy - tired. _**They're determined she's their meal ticket to immortality.**_

A newspaper was tossed onto the bed. Before Omi could even scan the headlines, a long index finger pointed to the picture in the center.

"Oh my god..." He closed his eyes, a wave of nausea washing over him once again.

"You think that's sick?" Schuldig yanked the paper before Omi could get ill all over it. "You haven't seen what Rosenkreuz is capable of. And I'll bet my life Estet's called them in to catch her." He snorted in disgust. "That's why we've got to kill her before they get to her."

"What?" Omi struggled against the hand that had moved quickly to hold him down against the bed. "You can't kill Sakura! She's just an innocent!"

"And how many innocents have you killed in your time, Weiss?" Cold blue eyes leaned in close, intimidating him back against the mattress.

The image of blue-haired, bubbly girl with bright, imperious eyes flashed in his mind. _Ouka..._

"Not nearly as many as you," he shot back venomously.

For a moment the stalemate held. Then, without a word, Schuldig turned his head away, removing the restraining hand from Omi's chest at the same time. Footsteps echoed in the empty room as the other man retreated from Omi's vision.

_**You'd better get used to the idea, Weiss.**_

Omi clenched his fists tightly, willing the voice away, despite the futility of the effort. "Why?" he spat back bitterly.

_**Because if we don't kill Sakura Tomoe, a whole lot of innocent people are going to die. But then...**_ Schuldig trailed off.

The image of Ken's dead eyes flashed in Omi's mind.

_**...What's the value of a single life?**_

  
  


**TBC...**


End file.
